When Two Worlds Collide
by Irbis
Summary: Wolverine: Origin spinoff. Up station and down station were never meant to mingle. For when they do, tragedy follows. Ch.3 Elizabeth Howlett. Complete.
1. John Howlett

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Marvel, to the exception of Abigail.

**Note**: This story is based off the events and characters presented in Wolverine: Origin. However, I've expanded the background stories for three of the book's main characters, namely John Howlett, Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan.

If you have not read the mini-series detailing the true origins of Wolverine, I suggest you do so before reading this story. The wonderful site has got the summaries. Just check the menu for 'Issue Information', then 'Issue Summaries'. Scroll down the alphabetical list until you find 'Origin #1 - 6' and enjoy the reading.

**When Two Worlds Collide**

**John Howlett**

Tree leaves fall quietly through the darkness. I can't see them, but sometimes a dark shadow trickles slowly in the wind just next to the window. And I know they're there. It's that time of the year.

The house is quiet. Even if Elizabeth sings her old folk songs in false cheerfulness. It's strange how I've come to ponder, lately, on the wisdom of having built such a grand estate. Father chided me often over the folly… waste of money, he claimed earnestly until my very ears and mind were raw. But he could not comprehend that my wishes, youthful as they might have been, were not foolish. I intended to have the house full of people at all times, full of friends… full of family.

Poor Elizabeth was unable to give me the numerous offspring my heart yearned for, and even my first born – only son for so long – even he was taken away from me. And here it stands… the magnificent Howlett Estate! Home to-be to the glories and happiness of the Howlett family. And yet, it has seen nought but tragedies and sadness.

I remember that sweet day, when my good friend Peter invited me to walk with him as he accompanied his sister, whose name I've been unable to recall for the longest time. I remember it so clearly, the day. The sun shone brightly but coldly, and the leaves were trickling slowly to the ground. My friend's sister chatted with us and, as usual, ushered herself into the Oliver Estate, where a dear friend of hers lived. Also as usual, Peter followed his sister; and I followed both, worried should we linger for too long.

Elizabeth was a dark haired beauty, just as Peter's sister was a blonde haired beauty, and I'm ashamed to admit the darkness did linger behind in beauty. We were introduced. Her eyes awarded me only a kind flutter and she herself did not move my interest. A lone wretch standing in her shadow, however, caught my eye. My friend's sister had overlooked to mention him and there he stood, as invisible and ignored as if he had been an uninteresting statue.

Elizabeth bid us all sit under the shade of a large elm, whose leaves gracefully coated the green grass. Elizabeth and her lady friend sat gleefully, and both laughed as the leaves fell around them, waving their hands at any daring leaf that threatened to touch their dandy selves. And it displeased me, that the young man should be more ignored than the very tree under whose shadow we planned to rest. I hesitated. I knew well that those beyond my station are invisible to us; my father had taught me so since the tenderest age.

I shall always recall my dear nanny, who raised me more tenderly than if I were her own child after my poor mother had passed away. Papa would either ignore her or yell at her faults. Sometimes he'd manage both. A few times he raised his hand to strike her. "It is as it should be, my lil' Master," she would lullaby me afterwards, "it is as it should be." For Papa was her Master, and her station forbid her to as much as feel unfairness for his harsh words and deeds. But she did… and cried sourly when she thought I was sleeping.

And on that fateful day, I lingered behind and gazed at the young man. He looked me steadily in the eye and I smiled. He seemed mildly perplexed and somewhat irritated. She did not miss my predicament, though.

"Thomas Logan," her bright voice rang magnanimously, "come here, please, and bid this young lady and the gentlemen good day."

He obeyed stiffly, and then fell to collecting the fallen leaves with a gardening tool. But the lady on whose behalf Peter and I had come took offence at the wretch's occupation, and Elizabeth once more lifted her voice in a soft "Won't you attend to some other part of the garden, Thomas?"

He departed and Elizabeth whispered us the secret of his presence: he had saved her life, when she was a child, and her mother had entreated the boy to be her guardian angel. "And to this day," she ended even more brightly, "Thomas has guarded me flawlessly."

We all laughed, thankful for the young man's past bravery. But surely, her lady friend scolded, she needn't treat the lad as delicately as she had. To ask maids and working men 'please' when directing them to their duties was quite scandalous. She blushed coyly, embarrassed; and my heart was hers from then on. Likewise, I fancy she learned to favour me that same moment, since her eyes awarded me often with blushed glances.

My dear Elizabeth! She was so young and carefree, so cheerful. She never feared associating with her maids, despite their low station. It lifted my very soul to see her come in with that blonde lass, giggling at the sight of me, her Missis' betrothed. But she did have the annoying habit of keeping the lad, Thomas, at her side when we went strolling outdoors. I held no hard feelings towards him, despite Elizabeth's preference for his continued protection, and even humoured her in chatting freely with him, on account of some unimportant matters. His was a rough, unsavoury character, though, who welcomed my attempts at associating with him with few words. Yet, he too often humoured Elizabeth and fought his level best to entertain me with whatever matter he managed to find.

Then, as the wedding day approached, Elizabeth finally came to her senses. She promised me that, from the moment she was mine, Thomas would no longer stand by her side, as a new arm was there to protect her. But I would not act like a miser: the lad would still follow us in one last journey. As we moved West, to my father's house in the growing Edmond town, Thomas would go with us. I had mentioned the young man to Father and had unceremoniously praised his skill as a gardener and groundskeeper. Father accepted him; and even admitted he was indeed a good hard worker, who obeyed his every order without a comment.

Ah, that first year when John was born. What joy and happiness crowned our days! Even Father's stiff manners were softened some when Abigail, Elizabeth's maid, brought John for his blessing. And then, taking advantage of both my happiness and Father's softened spirit, I convinced him to trust me with part of his fortune, that I too might enlarge it for the family's benefit. Although suspicious, he agreed. I was young and vigorous, and happiness granted me ambitious optimism. I chose some good fertile lands to the west of Edmond, near a small town of a few tens of souls, and had them partitioned. I had decided I would try my hand at the two most proficuous activities that land allowed for: the breeding of horses and the growing of cereals.

Much to Father's joy, I was cautious: I remained his guest until my lands had proved themselves worthy of my choice. But once the profits had become stable, I called forth the architects and the builders. The construction of my family's home would be delayed no more, for as much as Father might cry "bloody folly".

My little John had grown tall and lively in those years at his grandfather's Edmond home, and demanded to accompany me to the site of the building, to do his childish best at directing the men in their entrepreneur. Thomas Logan… Once more did I show my kindness to that fool, by allowing him to remain near his mistress. But even as I sent him ahead, to coordinate the gardening, I regretted my kindness. Only weeks before had I come to know the extent of his coward character.

Elizabeth's maid was some years younger than her mistress, but was both taller and larger. She had not the grace of the feminine condition but rather the brute health and strength of a field worker, with her large hands and broad shoulders. Gentleness lay only in her words, softness only in her natural shyness, beauty only in her golden hair. Yet, one evening, I heard her crying desperately in the garden and inquired about her predicament. Without much ado, she revealed how she had pinned over Thomas Logan for long years before he had finally accepted her affections. But though he had welcomed her attention, he had refused to protect her honour by marrying her afterwards. And there she lay thoroughly shamed, carrying his child and too fearful of Elizabeth's reproach, since she had always warned the girl away from the rough gardener.

I solved the matter in the only way it could be solved – Logan could not refuse to make amends. It amazed me that Elizabeth did not approve of it. She was enraged at the girl, whom she had long since treated like a sister, and refused to have her close by her again; she was enraged at Logan and publicly reprimanded him. She was enraged at me and punished me with blind silence.

Then, I sent the man away to the new home, certain that soon Elizabeth would calm down, and had the girl assigned to a new function, helping the cook. Elizabeth did not relent in her rage, though. I knew her to be a proud lady, and tried earnestly to ease her sense of betrayal, to no avail.

Only when we finally moved to our new home, did she end her days of terse silences and reproaching, hurt glares; and my patience was rewarded with cheerful smiles and approving, loving gazes.

Dear Lord, how far have we come from those days of yore! The happiness I felt that year we moved, with the news that my beloved Elizabeth was once more pregnant, feels now like a scorching hand of anguish. For as Elizabeth forgo of her rage, she replaced it with a melancholy smile and has never again recovered. It was as if Heaven had sent a shadow to her heart to warn her of the pain that was to come. I recall the photographer I had called forward to record as much of my happiness as that new machine could. But Elizabeth did not abide the photographer's entreaties for a smile. So soon did I find myself learning his trade and taking the recording upon my own hands. Elizabeth then smiled, and she chided me too, but not once did she avoid those moments, standing very still for the machine to capture her.

And yet her pregnancy burdened her increasingly more. Her soft smiles became ever more elusive as sadness and melancholy overcame her daily, and I sent her East, to the city doctors. She stayed with a friend of the family and returned only after James was born. She doted over the little one, protecting him fiercely from both me and my son John, who longed to play with his little brother.

My son John… So strong, so smart, so full of strength and life. It was less than a year after Elizabeth's return that he… Lord, forgive me! Elizabeth was once more sent East, to recover from the shock of his… death, as we must call it. That a human being could ever undergo such a regression into a more primitive state is something that has burdened me ever since. Something I've struggled to avoid thinking of… As much as Father, who loved John dearly, might have promised all the best that modern medicine has to offer, well does my heart know I shall never see my first born again.

I've put up a happy face for my Elizabeth's sake, but God! God…

I've struggled daily to counter this growing weariness and bitterness, but my strength fails me… May the Lord help me! I keep resisting the urge to hit something for fear the sound might startle Elizabeth. It is for my benefit she sings merrily when I know her heart treads gloomily on.

Father's words scorch my mind and undermine my will… "I warned you not to associate with those people…" Every day since I was born, you did; every bloody day… "No good would come of it, I said." Should I then behave to all man, woman, and youth with the harshness of your whip, Father? Should I!? "We're beyond their station in life!" My God! My God… why did You prove my father right? With this man of every bloody soul in the world! Why?

But it is done. My kindness has dealt me nothing but blows and unhappiness when it comes to that man, and I've finally put an end to it. I'm relieved Elizabeth has too forgotten those old, golden days when she so carelessly proclaimed Thomas Logan to be her own Heaven allotted guardian angel. I'm relieved she has not been hurt by the news that I've cast him out. I'm relieved…

Then why does this gloom alight itself onto my heart and soul? God, give me strength! For my poor wife's sake. For my precious son's sake…

She sings, yet. What dark clouds must that cheerful melody hide? What demons? She stayed away at a resting house in the East for so many months, after John's painful demise, that I truly feared she would not return. I must purge this gloominess from my voice and gestures; I must be wary not to burden her ever melancholy delicate spirit with my own burdens.

The wind outside ceases abruptly as I sense a male voice. Elizabeth has stopped her song and speaks and yet I left her alone… Who could have entered?

"Elizabeth? What's going on in here!"

Coldness grips my heart when I see the shotguns. They're standing next to Elizabeth… Rose, too…

"By God… Logan, is that you?" Perplexity swoons over me and leaves, and I approach that godless man with my blood boiling in anger. "What the devil do you think you're doing, you bloody fool?"

The movement is quick and catches me off guard. The pain numbs my senses for a moment, and when I regain them I'm on the floor, blood on my face from the hit with the stock of the shotgun.

"You stupid, idiot… Now look what you've done!" His angry voice drags away my hurt perplexity. The hot blood running down my face clears my consciousness. Elizabeth. "You've gone an' messed everythin' up, jus' like always! I should bloody kill you…"

"And then what, Thomas?" Madness. Madness! Oh, Father; why were you right? May the Lord help me! I will see the man hanged, Father; I'll see him flogged and hanged. "Where do you think you'll go? Or were you planning on just swanning out the front door?"

"Don't you talk to me like that! You understand me, 'Soft John'? Don't you ever…!"

The black cannons are aiming at my face as understanding washes over me. God… Oh, God; what have I done? I have brought my own death into my house, my family's… The Lord have mercy! But no, no… surely he will not hurt Elizabeth. Surely he will not hurt my son. Surely…

"Papa? Is that you? I heard a noise…"


	2. Thomas Logan

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Marvel, to the exception of Abigail.

**Note**: This story is based off the events and characters presented in Wolverine: Origin. However, I've expanded the background stories for three of the book's main characters, namely John Howlett, Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan.

If you have not read the mini-series detailing the true origins of Wolverine, I suggest you do so before reading this story. The wonderful site has got the summaries. Just check the menu for 'Issue Information', then 'Issue Summaries'. Scroll down the alphabetical list until you find 'Origin #1 - 6' and enjoy the reading.

**When Two Worlds Collide**

**2. Thomas Logan**

The house's takin' over the hill like a darned castle. There's that one window with light on, still. He thinks he's so high'n mighty… better 'an everyone else. Always has. So good an' kind ta look down all the way from his perch an' grace us underdogs with his almighty goodness.

"A man like that don't deserve his place in life… not with that fine house an' fine woman o' his."

No, he don't. None of it.

Elizabeth… He don't deserve ya, Elizabeth. Oh, Lord how many times did I tell the woman jus' that? How many times did she laugh in my face… But he never, ever deserved ya.

Ya was mine since that blasted day I saved yer life. D'ya remember it still? The fire in the steamboat? It wasn't a year that one of 'em boats, carryin' folks from the big sea-crossin'-ships ta the cities up river, didn't have a fire takin' it down. I had been in one boat, once, that caught fire, but folks had managed ta put it out 'fore there was a panic. That one day, though, there was no puttin' out 'cause the flames shot up and out an' spilled over ta travellin' folks' clothes an' bags. I escaped by lil', my own clothes all singed and smoky, and I was makin' my way through all the up-station folks when I bumped onta ya. Ya remember? Ya was so pretty; so scared an' so pretty. Everyone's screamin' 'round us and 'em tears on yer face. The old lady gave me a purse wi' money an' told me ta take ya ta safety, 'cause the fire was growin' an' spreadin' ta everywhere. An' take care o' ya I did. I would of died fer ya, that day, Elizabeth. I swear ta ya I would of.

I don't know what I would of done if ya ain't asked yer old man ta keep me. He got me helpin' the gardener an' the stable help, but ya kept stoppin' by ta see 'em flowers or 'em horses an' say 'hullo' ta me.

But I knew it wasn't right. I knew ya shouldn't come an' say 'hullo'. Ya was the Missis. Ya couldn't come down an' talk ta the lowest station in the house like ya did. It was wrong. I could of sat an' gazed up at yer window, knowin' ya was in the room. I could hide in the maze an' gaze at ya sittin' under the tree 'stead o'doing my chores; listen ta ya talkin' ta that girl playin' yer maid and wish I could be in her place. But you! You could not come down an' talk ta me. Lord knows I got flogged often enough fer not doin' my job, 'cause I was gazin' after ya. Lord knows even Mister Oliver 'imself flogged me ta straights when he caught me lazyin' 'round, lookin' up at yer window.

He flogged me ta straights, I tell ya, but ya couldn't let it be, could ya? Ya had ta go an' hide in the maze yerself. Ya had ta go an' tells me ta go fix some out o' place boughs inside the maze, where ya was hidin' an' waitin' fer me.

"It ain't right, Missis," I told ya, "we's from different worlds, Miss Elizabeth, different stations in life." Mister Oliver had flogged me that straight inta my brain, he had. "It ain't ever gonna be possible fer us ta talk ta eachother."

Ya laughed. I was hurtin' worse than the darned floggin' and ya was laughin' at me. "It can't be, Elizabeth; it can't be." It can't be. But ya came ta the maze over and over, and ya made up faults ta complain 'bout me every time I failed ta be there. Ya'd go an' cry when I got flogged fer 'em faults, but ya was the one doin' it. And I had no more strength in me ta refuse ya, in the end.

An' then he came in. All full o' niceties and all. Never fooled me none! He told ya he was better 'an the rest and ya believed 'im, Elizabeth. Even though I told ya he was lyin'; that he's worse than all the rest! Don't even know his place. He never did. And ya insisted I'd be civil ta 'im … Didn't ya see how he talked ta me? Like I was a darned animal wi' too lil' brain ta understand his fine words an' interests? But all full o' blasted niceties in front o' ya… Who ever asked 'im fer his favors! I never needed 'em! I'll spit on 'em. Every one of 'em!

And you! Why did ya have me go with ya? Ya was marryin' that blasted soft fool and ya wanted me ta see it from afar… why, I asked ya? Why? Ya wanted me with ya fer what? Mister Howlett was a more ruthless master than yer old man, and ya knew all too well we could do nothin' but look on at each other, maybe say two words on account of 'em flowers. But ya had me go. Ya had me stand an' watch ya and yer blasted lil' soft husband o' yours play at happiness.

And when that wretched fool of a girl ya kept at yer side came down ta me, complainin' that I kept lookin' at her, when she came with ya inta the garden, an' demandin' I admitted my intentions ta her… ya dared be mad at me. So I had yer girl. Maybe ya should of come down an' sent her away from me, if it's what ya really wanted. But ya didn't, did ya? And ya didn't do nothin' when she went cryin' ta yer soft husband, complainin' 'bout the baby in her gut. Well, what the hell had she been expectin' when she had gone after me? A blasted puppy dog?

And you, Elizabeth? What had you expected? So ya got herself a fool fer a husband and yer own kid, did ya? I got myself a fool fer a wife and my own kid, too. And if they all just got 'emselves dead, wouldn't ya have been happier? Wouldn't we have been happier?

Yeah, we would. 'Cause he don't deserve ya. He don't deserve nothin', even if he's got everythin' in the world.

"I say it's time we made a change to that."

The boy lifts his head ta me. As much a fool as his mother ever was. And a snivellin' coward worse 'an she ever was. But at least he don't try ta get all uppity like the woman did, after she came back from the East, when the big house was nearly done. Gave me enough trouble, always complainin' 'bout her old mistress, 'bout the new house on the ground's outskirts, 'bout me. Always fawnin' over that darned baby o' hers. She wasted a man's patience, she did. But I taught her ta straights: she got me and 'erself in the trouble, an' she got no business but ta keep her yap shut an' tend ta her new home.

Those days were hell from sunrise ta sunset, an' ta sunrise again. The blasted baby cryin' in the house, the woman weepin' after it, and Elizabeth always moody. I would wait fer her in the maze, 'cause I knew that blasted woman an' baby was eatin' at her on the inside as much as they was eatin' at me. Elizabeth would send that boy o' hers out ta play and quietly come inta the maze. Ta meet me. Ta weep at my betrayal, as she called it. Ta reprimand me. Ta complain. But ta meet me.

I lifted her spirits. I always knew how ta lift her spirits. But that bloody man got her pregnant again, as if gettin' his one kid in this world hadn't been bad enough, an' she got worse again. He'd go 'round wastin' her patience with some good fer nothin' machine that had her staying still fer hours unending. An' the blasted woman always weepin' behind me, makin' my boy into a snivellin' girly coward. I tried ta kick her away from the boy – it was my boy, after all – but the harm was already done an' the boy would cry as if he was bein' killed if I got near it. I had no patience fer it. I had no patience fer none of 'em.

But it wasn't until the woman found that picture Elizabeth had given me that I finally got it in me ta solve the problem.

Elizabeth's first kid had already died then, an' Soft John had been so foolish as ta send Elizabeth away. Away! What kind o' man sends his own woman away? An' then locked her up in her room after she came back. I had always known he was a bastard bloody fool, and I was glad Elizabeth had finally seen 'im fer what he was. But she was weak an' down after her own kid attacked her wi' those knives comin' out o' his hands, like some freak. Like his freakish poppa. His lil' boy all right. There was nothin' she could of done 'gainst it.

I waited fer her ta call me ta her help, like when we was kids in the darned steamboat. But she didn't. An' then the blasted woman saw the picture an' went crazy, cryin' bloody murder and all kind o' nonsense.

I went straight ta the old man Mister Howlett, one o' those days he was up at the house. He's always known his place, that man, nothin' like his soft son. I went straight ta 'im and told him the woman had gone nuts and cracked her head 'gainst a wall an' what he thought ought ta be done ta fix the problem without more cryin'. I knew the kind o' man he is. The priest came and took her down ta buryin' an' that was the end ta the whole thing. 'Cept fer the boy – already too much of a coward, and as soft in the head as his fool of a mother.

I spent my whole life tryin' ta turn that boy into a man. And what does he do? He rolls up in the dirt and trembles like a dog… It goes ta show just how good an' nice Soft John an' his boy really are: one robs me o' my woman, the other turns my boy into his snivellin' dog. It ain't his fault. It was Soft John's, who had me marry that soft headed woman; it was Soft John's boy's, who turned the boy's soft head 'round…

It all ends here. It's 'bout time it does.

--------------------------------------------

Kenneth is out gettin' wood as well as that red-haired girl. Good. He'll be the first ta pay.

"But if y' ask me," he's sayin, "that piece o' dirt had it comin'."

So we all have, ya bastard. I hit's 'im with a piece o' wood so hard it falls apart.

"Mister Kenneth? Oh, my…"

She drops her wood basket when she sees me an' the boy, and that blasted Kenneth bleedin' on the ground like the pig he was.

"You're going to help us, girl."

"Leave me alone! I'm not helping you…"

"You will if you want to live, girl." I'm so fed up wi' these folks up the hill thinkin' they can order everyone 'round 'em.

"You gotta believe me, Rose, this is serious." So this is the wench that Soft John's kid tried ta rob from my boy, is it. It's 'bout time I teach 'im how ta deal with women. "I can't help you now… We're already too far gone t' turn back now…"

"Shut up, boy! She'll do what's right if she knows what's good for 'er." I grabs hers by the arm so she don't think o' runnin' off. "You're gonna show us th'back way to the master bedroom… 'less you wanna end up like your parents."

The girl's pretty. I'll give the boy's taste that much. But she's a dumb uppity lass, and the darned boy is 'bout ta go down on 'is knees fer her. That boy'll never learn!

"What happened to you, Dog? Why'd you turn out t'be this way…"

"One more word an' you're a dead Irish Rose. Now MOVE."

She goes quietly fer as long as I keep the shotgun aimed at her head. Soon, I can hear Elizabeth's voice. Singin'… Lord, I missed that woman's voice! I open the door an' go in quietly. Wouldn't want ta warn Soft John fer 'im ta ruin everythin' again. I put my hand over her mouth so she won't make any noise and I feel her shudderin', as she used ta when I touched her.

"Not a sound, Elizabeth. It's me… Thomas. Understand?" I see her eyes widen in recognition and I release her, lettin' my hand cup her head as I used ta. Lord, why is her pretty hair cut this short? "We're getting out of here, an' I'm takin' you with me. Tonight. Where's the money?"

An' then things start goin' wrong. The girl behind me finds her voice and starts makin' excuses and I see Elizabeth's eyes glitter, as they did when she was mad.

"Thomas, are you utterly mad coming here like this? Let the girl go…" The boy interrupts her, yellin' "No! She's comin' with us!"

Blasted boy! And Elizabeth's up an' movin' fer the girl, mad indeed at the boy's insolence. But we ain't got much…

"Elizabeth? What's going on in here!"

Soft John looks at me dumbfounded fer a moment an' then shows 'is true face, jus' like he did when he kicked me out o' the property.

"By God… Logan, is that you? What the devil do you think you're doing, you bloody fool?"

I move without a thought. I done it so many times in my head; so many times, in so many ways! I hold the shotgun good with my two own hands ta hit 'im as hard as I can. He flies ta the floor, an' there's nothin' but the two of us, an' finally, finally! I get ta finally step 'im down as many times as he's stepped me down!

"You stupid, idiot… Now look what you've done! You've gone an' messed everythin' up, jus' like always!" Like always! Meddlin', messin' everythin' 'round 'im: Elizabeth's life; my life! "I should bloody kill you…"

"And then what, Thomas? Where do you think you'll go? Or were you planning on just swanning out the front door?"

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Always the smart up-station prick! "You understand me, 'Soft John'? Don't you ever…!"

My finger moves, I hear the door openin', "Papa? Is that you?" But I'm already pulling the trigger hard, all the way back, "I heard a noise…", an' there's nothin' but red splashin' all 'round and yellin', yellin', yellin…

"Make her shut up! And the boy, too!"

Fertunetely fer my boy, he does his job fast enough. 'Em blasted up-station kids are nothin' but trouble. Elizabeth ain't yellin' or cryin'… but then again, why should she? I just done her the service of a lifetime.

"Someone shut that idiot up! I swear Rose…" That idiot boy o' mine shuts the red head up wi' that much stupidity. "I ain't never been more serious in my life! I can't think straight!"

And since when can he? Or was he thinkin' it takes a girly ta shut up a cryin' baby-boy like that soft John's kid?

"I said 'shut up, James!'" Finally he lifts the shotgun up at the fool's head. Good thing the boy learned somethin' tonight.

I turns ta Elizabeth while the gun goes off. It's time we have us a lil' talk. It's been too long since we did more than glance from afar. She looks scared, but I don't hesitate. It's gone too far ta hesitate. But she ain't lookin' at me, she's lookin' at somethin' behind me. I turns ta see that good-fer-nothin' boy o' mine snivelling in the dirt once more; and 'fore I knows it, that soft fool boy comes bumpin' inta me.

"I'll kill you back! I'll KILL you!"

More guts than his father ever had, I'll give 'im that. Elizabeth's yellin' at me not ta hurt the boy, but he's gotta learn.

"Get offa me, you little runt!" I hit 'im wi' the gun, like I did his darlin' poppa. Teach 'im ta behave! "You soft little turd! You think there ain't another barrel-full where that one came from? I'll have your bloody guts for garters! I'm gonna…"

Something's wrong… My gut is hurtin'… like a fire spreadin' inwards and… blood? Blood!?

"…what did you…?"

He was bare handed! An' now I'm… how did he…? Why am I all cut up like a… a…

"dear lord"

I remember that day… Elizabeth had returned from the East with 'er second boy, and was always moody. I saw her alone in the garden and went after her ta lift her spirits. I held her tight until she smiled fer me. It was dangerous, grabbin' her like that in the garden, 'cause someone could've spotted us… we should'a been meetin' up in the maze, but I couldn't very well let her go 'round sulkin' in 'er moodiness.

I had left Elizabeth in the rose garden.

Minutes later there was an uproar. I hurried ta the spot, an' there she was: Elizabeth fallen over the housekeeper, blood all over her, and the stable hand, Charles, havin' trouble keepin' Soft John's first kid quiet, even though he was as big an' strong as a bear. There was blood all over the boy, too; and he growled an' roared like a wild animal… things like knives comin' out o' his hands. Things like knives…

I could never forget the boy's hands… knives comin' out of 'em, his mother's blood all over him... animal grunts an' roars… And I hear it again... The same howlin' as that day. Elizabeth…

Dear Lord, Elizabeth…

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	3. Elizabeth Howlett

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Marvel, to the exception of Abigail.

**Note**: This story is based off the events and characters presented in Wolverine: Origin. However, I've expanded the background stories for three of the book's main characters, namely John Howlett, Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan.

If you have not read the mini-series detailing the true origins of Wolverine, I suggest you do so before reading this story. The wonderful site has got the summaries. Just check the menu for 'Issue Information', then 'Issue Summaries'. Scroll down the alphabetical list until you find 'Origin #1 - 6' and enjoy the reading.

**When Two Worlds Collide**

**3. Elizabeth Howlett**

Everything has fallen apart into emptiness, all around me. All I have held dear… The darkness sips into the room with the silent heaviness of death. The smell of blood… it's detestable sight!

Oh, how I've longed to once more feel your arms around me! Your rough face next to mine. Your unrelenting fire consuming us whole. In such times as I fancied your rough passion, your manly strength, I had only to glance around and reach for you. For you always stood near, patiently awaiting me. Never once have you failed me, and yet how well I know…

"Oh, Thomas… What have I done?"

My eyes burn and yet I know there are no tears that will ever quench their fire. I have failed you, my dearest. As I have failed my darling John… Oh, Lord! As I have failed myself! Oh, Thomas! The Lord has punished me terribly for each sinful step I've attempted, and I have brought it all upon those I held closest to my heart.

What have we done, my dearest Thomas? Do you remember how you used to lay your head on my lap, all those years ago? How I used to brush your hair aside, like this? How you'd then take hold of my hand and pull me down to you? Your hand will not come forth and bruise my arm ever again, and yet I swear to you, on our immortal souls… lost forever as they may be. I swear to you, Thomas, that I can feel it closing around my arm, imprinting the shape of your every finger into my flesh… into my very soul!

Do you not feel it, Thomas? The sun is high in the azure sky and it burns my back. My parasol is lying on the grass, somewhere within the maze, and soon we'll be searching for it… how could I return to the house without it? And those scorching bruises your hands have dug into my skin keep my mind aloft as you curse softly. Oh, how my heart would jump and swell at the sound of your voice. Do you know, as you lie there, the pain I've inflicted myself? Never to hear your voice again… Madness! And what for? What for, my Lord! If You strip me from everything, both painful and comforting, I have ever surrounded me of?

Mother calls me. She has been in the Lord's peace for many years since, and yet I hear her voice, singing by my side. Singing those songs her own mother had sung to her. The ship swings calmly to and forth, as we leave our dear Scotland, and you, Mother, you promise me the enchanted world of my childhood's fairy kingdoms. But I am no longer the child who believed them, swinging in your arms, both of us swinging in the arms of the sea.

Your voice has haunted me all my life, darling Mother. Singing softly. "My bonnie lad… my bonnie lad from far away…" I would dare say it ought to have been sung fearfully, but it was not. Travelling in those dreadful boats. How awful it was! The smoke burning our eyes and lungs, confusing our very hearts; the flames sweeping to and fro in tantalizing waves of pain and death. I have sometimes tried to remember the screams of sheer panic and desperation that surely the boat fire provoked. But every time, Mother, it is your voice I hear. Your voice, Mother, and your hands, Thomas.

Oh, what dashing knight you were, in your armour of soot and burns. We were children, then. Silly children. But you were so brave and courageous, and I was a frightened little bird. I shall never forget the strength of your puny arm as it encircled my waist and pulled me over board. Poor Mother… Do you remember how she entreated you to not come back for her, but rather take me to complete safety? How she burdened you with the task of keeping my side at all times, lest an ill intentioned fellow took advantage of me? You swam valiantly, pulling me behind you; kicking those desperate souls who tried to reach us for help. How foolish of me… Forget! If you have never left my side, as Mother besought you.

Even when John would come to see me, I know you were always there. Hating him. Oh, Thomas, yes, I knew. I've always known. But what could I have done? You were so below our station, Thomas! And Father was no different from John's father. Men of their time, they were. But you knew full well, too; you knew we belonged to different worlds. It was I, my dearest, it was I who decided to overlook it. The maze… the one below my maiden bedroom window, not this one you have grown for me. I would attract you there, much with the irrepressible force of the flame that attracts the moth. But you repelled me with indignation. You repelled me first with a sound, knowledgeable pride; then with a hurt pride, still knowledgeable of your station. You repelled me with honesty. But I refused to accept it. And even John! When he came to visit, do you remember how kind he was to all those unfortunate souls in a station below ours? Children of our time, we were. But not you. Never you.

Oh, Thomas, what have I done to us all? Why did I and John fail to see the truth behind our fathers' words? We might have escaped to the little maze behind Father's estate again and again; we might have shut everything out… But we could never, ever escape the truth, independently of how many well-intentioned lies and sinful deceits. I could not live in your world, as you could never live in mine. Our stations estranged us from one another even as our souls and hearts bound us tighter. Oh, what I wouldn't have done if only it weren't so! I! What you would not have done…

Oh, my dearest Thomas! You always had such an honest, passionate heart. John's was kind and soft, true; but you shouldn't blame him for that. No, you mustn't. He's a good, kind husband. It was why I chose him, Thomas. The only man in my station I desired. For he is kind and compassionate. He's a child who lives in a world of humanity and friendliness. He did not have our pain to hide, and thus he never learnt what his old father repeated time after time. And even I…

I have only learnt it through the death of my poor son, my dear little John. Why the Lord punished me with such cruelty is beyond my understanding; but He did. And I knew, Thomas, I knew in my heart, the Lord would once more brand me with his avenging sword should we remain in this house full of sins. My sins, Thomas. As it was I who crossed over…

And alas! The Lord has punished me again. He's taken my only son left and killed him just in the same fashion as he did my dear John. Oh, James! Your death, too, rests upon my shoulders. But all is over, now.

"Poppa? Is that you?"

Wha…? Oh, look, Thomas. Your little boy is still here. I long for my little boys, too. But it is too late… It's too late for us all.

"Who's there? Is someone there? I can't see nuthin'…"

He has not your brass fierceness, Thomas. The poor child trembles and stutters in fear… You were never like that, were you? Fire and death all around you… blood… and you would never once waiver on your path for me. No, you were never like your little boy. But I fear my poor sons were. They were so young, so protected, so happy. Afraid to take on the world and its painful fierceness. My poor sons… If only they had been more like you, Thomas, instead of like me and their father. Kindness and softness has brought nothing but pain and death to this family.

"Don't be scared, boy. Everything's going to be all right."

"Rose…" He's so lost, poor thing. "Izzat you?"

But so are we, Thomas. And weren't we always! The Lord has inspired such wisdom in my bosom on the day He took my son… My sins have been terrible and no punishment has ever erased them from my soul. My pain could not ease the Lord's avenging hand. I knew.

"I knew this would happen, Thomas." I knew. I knew. I knew!

"Oh, Lord… You won't hurt me, will you, Missus? I didn't mean t'do nuthin'… I swear!"

Oh, listen to that child of yours stuttering in excuses! My poor Thomas, why has the Lord punished our children for our sins? But enough! It is time I learn from you. It is time I take action and end this calvary once and for all.

"You gonna hurt me?"

"It's not going to hurt."

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